


Settle In

by applecore



Category: Corruption of Champions
Genre: Happy Ending, Inflation, Mpreg, Other, ToT: Monster Mash, monster pregnancy, this canon is its own warning tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecore/pseuds/applecore
Summary: "What the fuck am I pregnant with now?" - Old Champion Saying





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mornelithe_falconsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mornelithe_falconsbane/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this treat! I had a lot of fun writing it for you. I've only gotten a little way into this game, so if you notice anything that seems weird or non-canon, that's why.

The champion wakes. His throat is sore, and his ass is sore, and his belly—

He rolls upright, and _rolls_ is the word. He brushes a hand over the full, round globe that his belly has become, swelling out from under his shirt. He shudders; the very touch of his fingers across the taut skin brings him nearly to orgasm. Instead he carefully leans back on his hands and tries to remember how he got here. _Here_ is the edge of the forest, but the last thing he remembers is going to sleep under a red sky, back at camp.

He’s clearly pregnant. What is it this time? He hopes to fuck it’s not another satyr. He’s so tired of birthing those obnoxious little satyrs and their stubby little horns. But getting ravaged by a satyr is not easy to forget, so probably it isn’t that.

He heaves a sigh. The rise and fall of his chest causes the fabric of his shirt to brush over his belly, and he gasps aloud. Experimentally he slides just one finger down his rounded side, and it is an ecstatic kind of torture. He presses a palm to himself and nearly blacks out, so exquisitely sensitive is he.

He can’t travel like this. It is strict necessity that brings both his hands to his belly, massaging himself oh so gently. It takes only three slow circuits until he comes, the orgasm beginning in his balls but sweeping in a warm, pleasurable rush all the way under his ribs, like whatever was occupying his belly was generating its own orgasm right along with him, a very pleasant—

No. Some new monster put its monstrous offspring in him, and he needs to find out what it is. Before it comes out, preferably; he doesn’t need another incident like the demon viper that’d sunk its fangs in him as soon as it slithered out his hole. Not that he minds the fangs he got out of the deal, but still, a fellow wants some warning.

He touches his belly again, just to check, and he’s ~~disappointed~~ encouraged that the near-painful sensivity is gone. A one-time effect of the impregnation, no doubt. Still, heaving to his feet takes some effort. His balance is shot, and he flails mightily before he’s finally upright. It’s easier to see now how big he is – if it were a satyr, he’d be nearly to term. (It better not be a satyr.) And this happened today? Or - he gives the brightening sky a concerned glance – it happened yesterday? Almost more troubling than the pregnancy is the fact that he spent the night blacked out on the forest floor without anyone raping him, beating the shit out of him, or stealing his gems.

He takes an unsteady step. His belly leads the way as he waddles down the forest path, thinking longingly of his familiar camp with its demon traps and extra stash. The forest melts away, and he’s home. Such as it is.

He retrieves his books from his stash, in case there’s something in them he forgot. There isn’t. The traveler’s guide is mostly about bee-girls – mm, bee-girls – and there are few details in the guide to dangerous plants that he didn’t remember, but nothing related to waking up with a belly the size of his. 

As he sets the book aside, his arm brushes his skin again, and, oh, that felt good. He holds his arm just close enough to tickle, and it’s like joyous, lusty ants dancing a jig. He quakes with the sensation of it.

Wait, no, that’s his belly. It’s quaking all by itself, but that feels even better. He presses his hands to it, that delicious pressure without and squirming roil within, and his cock spurts and spurts until he’s dry. He lies back with his gravid gut in his hands. 

This is… not very productive. Whatever’s in him is plenty active; it’ll be out in no time. He needs to figure this out. Sheila, maybe. She’s usually good for chat. 

He heaves himself up again. It was a mistake sitting in the first place. Already the brush of his shirt over his belly’s starting to tickle again, and that’s just distracting. Huffing, he strips his shirt off and tosses it by the fire pit. He’s hardly more obvious now than he was before, when his enormous bloat was peeking out from under the cloth. 

He points himself in the direction of the plains, thinks of Sheila, and begins to walk. His camp disappears and grass bends under his feet, but the plain is empty. If she’s not here, she’s not here. 

He tries Ro’Gar’s hut next. It’s still empty, just like the last time he checked, and meanwhile his pregnant belly’s so horny again he has to sit down on Ro’Gar’s bed and get himself off. He really needs to find out what’s fucked him into this, because it’d be a shame to only get this once.

That’s the thought that makes him realize what he has to do; there’s nothing for it. He gets up onto his feet. It seems harder than before, even being farther from the ground – is his belly bigger? More to go around, he thinks, patting it affectionately, and then he steels himself and heads back to the forest. 

Jojo the mouse-monk appears almost immediately, frowning and shaking his head at the state the champion is in. “Look at how it’s corrupted you. This is very difficult to purify.” He taps his claws on the champion’s belly. The champion can’t hold in his moan of pleasure, and Jojo flinches back, horrified. “You’re very far gone. Here is what you must do, if you wish to purify this from yourself.”

“I thought I’d just birth it like usual,” the champion says. “I just want to know what it is. And how it happened – I don’t really remember.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jojo says, and the champion honestly can’t say whether it’s a statement of fact or an insult. “Here is what you must do. Go to the center of the forest, in the deepwoods – avoid any creatures you see, you’d let them do anything to you while you’re like this.”

 _Anything_. That sounds pleasant.

“At the very center of it – you know the white lilies that grow there? Pluck one and eat it, and you’ll be cleaned. Go on, now. Hurry.”

Hurrying is difficult, the size the champion is. His progress towards the deepwoods is more of an amble. He keeps an eye out for imps and bee-girls, but none bother him. Really, the forest is as quiet as ever he’s heard it; he doesn’t even see Tamani, usually so interested in any virile cock. Though his might be a bit difficult to reach, at the moment.

As he approaches the center of the deepwoods, he catches the scent of something floral. It turns his stomach, but pleasurably; he leans against a tree to bring himself off again. He’s definitely bigger now. Surely whatever’s plumped him up so big, he’ll birth it soon.

He gets to the glade with the lilies. There’s a stream running through it. That scent is stronger now – it’s the lilies filling his nose. His belly squirms, and he pets it.

Something rustles behind him, the first monster he’s seen all day. He turns.

It’s a tentacle beast, of a kind. Not so leafy as the others he’s seen. It shifts towards him on writhing vines, and Jojo was right, the champion will let it do anything to him. He’s frozen in place. No, he’s drawn to the tentacle beast, towards its very heart. And then the rustling of its vines and branches resolves into a whistle, almost like a voice. He can almost make out the words—

Oh.

“Oh,” he says. He waddles slowly forward. “This is yours?”

The whistle drops to a keen. The tentacle beast encloses him in itself, gentle, nothing like his other encounters with the creatures. It caresses him. It caresses his belly, and he comes then and there. The creature in his belly keens back, a kind of vibration in his gut that sets that heat immediately pooling in his manhood again.

“Do you want it back?” the champion says. He receives the strong impression that the answer is no, though the tentacle beast keeps on holding him just as surely, caressing just as gently. He receives the further impression that he’s done a very good job so far, caring for his young tentacle beast, and would he care to continue? 

“For how long?” the champion asks, as though it matters.

Likely quite some time. Likely he’ll grow a great deal bigger before the child is ready to enter the world, and would that be all right? He’ll be taken quite good care of. He’ll be fed, to help him grow – the beast itself will feed him. Suck on any tentacle like a tit, it promises him. No other creature will dare come near him.

He’s on the brink of coming again. At this rate, soon he won’t stop. He catches a wavering tentacle in his mouth and sucks, and he feels pleasure bloom all through him – his own, and the beast’s, and the child’s in his belly.

*

Jojo visits him, once. The mother beast has writhed away to do whatever it is tentacle beasts do when they’re not raping or suckling or soothing, and the champion’s back is pressed against a tree trunk. He’s stopped moving about on his own – even the magical mind-properties of this demon world aren’t quite enough to shift him at this size. Or perhaps it’s the corruption in him that keeps him grounded.

Jojo clearly considers that to be the case. He doesn’t even speak; he only looks at the champion, shakes his head in disappointment, and then trots away again.

The tentacle child squirms inside the champion. It’s nearly as big now as he was, before this began, and it loves to shudder and quake until he shudders, too. That never takes long. When he’s done this time, he sweeps his hands over himself as far as he can reach and closes his eyes, Jojo already forgotten.

END


End file.
